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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27951074">Impossible Things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords'>masterwords</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Death, Explosions, Graphic Description, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Prison, Protective David Rossi, Shrapnel - Freeform, Suicide, death of prisoners, prison break - Freeform, violent prison guards</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:54:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27951074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a run, Aaron Hotchner slips on a patch of ice and breaks his arm, and in true Hotch fashion he just attempts to play it cool rather unsuccessfully.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh, me?  I’m just over here inventing a plethora of scenarios in which Dave and Aaron might realize they belong together.  December makes me mushy.  I’m a walking Hallmark movie these days.  Today, for Day 7 of my Advent of Aaron Hotchner, I present Part One of (probably) Two in which I take these two dummies and by manipulating time and space, force them together.  It’ll be fun!  (Posted on Tumblr as well.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frost settled on the rooftops and the trees making the golden late autumn leaves brittle and shimmery. Aaron could hear the soft sounds of ice crunching under his feet as he ran along, the streets still deserted in the sleepy early morning fog.  He lived for 4am, it was no man's land, the hours between the night crowd and the morning crowd were his to do as he pleased. Quickly he rounded the corner and headed toward a nearby park, planning to do a few laps before going back to the house to get ready for work.  Overhead, the trees crackled and swayed, shedding their frosty skins in the wind.  He could hear a car approaching from behind him and side stepped his way up onto the curb until it passed, then popping back down onto the street.  Instantly, he realized his miscalculation as his foot slid on a patch of ice, jerking his leg right out from under him.  He tried to steady himself, taking another step so he wouldn't lose his momentum but he over-corrected and both feet flew out behind him this time, sending him sprawling forward, face first onto the asphalt. Instinctively he threw his hands out before him to catch his fall, regretting the decision instantly when he felt the sickening snap of his arm under his weight, forcing him to tumble further.  He rolled to the side, clutching it to his chest and groaned his displeasure.  The pain didn't come right away, it didn't need to, he'd been a young boy once and he was no stranger to broken bones.  Slowly, in a daze, Aaron pulled himself over to the curb and sat himself there, breathing heavily, making mental calculations while his body began shivering in the cold.  He was two miles from home, and 4 miles from being finished with his planned run, so after taking a few minutes to gather himself, he pushed up to his feet and hit the pavement again.  Each pounding step sent shooting pain through his arm, even when he hugged it tight against his chest, but he continued anyway, determined to finish what he'd started – it was on his calendar, if he didn't finish now he'd have to make up the miles later to keep up with Derek and that sounded far worse than enduring some pain now.  </p><p>Four miles later, much slower than he'd anticipated after having to take several short breaks to steady his arm for just long enough to stop it sending flares through his body, he was fumbling with his keys in his door, panting heavily, more from the pain in his arm than the running itself.  He looked at his GPS and grimaced, he hadn't realized how far off pace he was and he would have to report that disappointment to Morgan shortly.  The house was still quiet and dark, it would be at least another hour before Jack was up and heading to school and Aaron just hoped he could get himself showered and out the door before the kiddo launched a full scale investigation into his injury.  During his shower he contemplated his options – going to Urgent Care and being treated, knowing that he would have to subject himself to fitness for duty protocols, or trying to just force his way through the pain but avoiding all official diagnosis, something he'd done plenty of times in the past, but he wasn't sure he could legitimately skirt this one. As he showered, his arm throbbed and he could see the swelling and deep bruises spreading.  By the time he was out of the shower and struggling with one hand to dress himself, hissing and cursing under his breath every time his arm so much as moved or was touched, he knew he had no choice but to be seen.  His team wasn't even there with him, but they were in his head bullying him into being taken care of – he had to marvel at that.    </p><p>He was in the door of the nearest Urgent Care by the time they opened at 6am and being seen shortly after by yawning medical staff still pumping coffee into their systems – it paid to be an early bird.  The medical assistant packed his arm in ice and wrapped it up while he waited for the doctor to view the x-rays.  He found himself miraculously teetering between agony and completely numb, it was the strangest sensation.  The ice was helping immensely, providing a distraction for his mind.  He was in a hurry to get into work early, or at the very least on time, and he managed to sweet talk them into only doing the bare minimum this morning to get him through the day. They'd made him stay long enough for the ice to take down some of the swelling before putting him in a temporary splint, under strictly worded orders to return in the evening with someone to give him a ride so they could set the bones.  Driving to work, he contemplated whether he could skip that appointment altogether – who was he going to ask to drive him to and from an evening appointment? Jessica was out of town for the rest of the week, and he couldn't ask any of the team to work after hours just to help him out  – they'd all say yes, but as their boss, it wasn't fair to ask.  By the time he was parked, he'd resigned himself to just waiting a until Jessica was back in town, it seemed like the only option that inconvenienced him more than anyone else.  Jessica, after all, was already in the habit of coming and going from his house every day, he knew he could just walk to the doctor's office and she could pick him up on her way in.  </p><p>The office was quiet, only Morgan sat at his desk clicking away between his laptop and his phone.  He glanced up at Aaron as he passed, greeting him loudly.  </p><p>“Morning Hotch!  How'd it go this morning?  You sleep in or something?” Morgan asked with a sly smile.  It was unusual for him to beat Hotch into the office on run mornings.  Aaron just shook his head and shrugged.  Morgan could tell something was off, but he couldn’t place it.  </p><p>“6 miles, 46 minutes,” he muttered, breezing past Morgan's desk on his way to the stairs.  Morgan swung around in his chair, not even bothering to hide his shock.  </p><p>“That's almost 10 minutes off your target, man, what happened?  You stop for a donut or something?”</p><p>Aaron paused at the base of the steps and contemplated the question for a moment, running through answers and outcomes in his mind before resigning himself to just admitting the truth now and getting it over with.  He turned around and held up his injured arm rather halfheartedly, watching as Morgan shot up from his seat.  </p><p>“Hotch, man, what happened?” Morgan approached him cautiously, stopping just a few feet away and folding his arms over his chest.  He felt bad for joking around now, but he couldn’t have known.  </p><p>“Fell on a patch of ice near the park.  Don’t worry, I won't miss any runs, in case you're thinking I'm just going to forfeit and let you win.”  </p><p>“Hotch...” Morgan started, shaking his head as if in disbelief at the stubborn man in front of him, but he knew he'd react the same way.  “Wait, so you broke your arm and then finished your run anyway?”</p><p>“What else was I supposed to do?  It was 4am and I was already 2 miles out, only had 4 left to do, and half of that was just getting back home.”</p><p>“I was out, you could have called me to come get you man, I can't believe you did 4 miles with a broken arm.  You're insane.”  Morgan just stood, staring at Aaron sternly, like he wanted to launch into a strong reprimand or order his boss to go home, but he just stayed silent.  </p><p>“Do I scare you?” Aaron asked, cocking an eyebrow with a wry smile on his face.  </p><p>“What?  No.  Well.  Maybe but...geeze man.  You're good though?  Really?”</p><p>“I'm okay.”</p><p>Morgan nodded his acceptance and walked back to his desk, shaking his head while Aaron made his way up the stairs to his office.  By the time he'd unpacked himself and settled in, his arm was throbbing mercilessly.  He tried to move his fingers but they were stiff, every movement setting his nerves on fire.  It didn't take long before Dave materialized in his doorway, a look of disappointment and concern painted on his features.  </p><p>“You should have called me,” Dave said softly, entering Aaron's office.  Aaron peered up at him with one of those looks that just said to tread lightly.  He was in good spirits but that could change quickly.  He couldn’t believe Morgan had sold him out so quickly.</p><p>“I'm fine, Dave,” Aaron muttered. His phone buzzed at him and after glancing down at it solemnly, he clicked a reply and tossed it aside, sighing.  Dave watched him for a moment, glancing down at his swollen, bandaged hand on the desk and then back at his face, set in stone.  He could see the misery in his friend's eyes but he knew Aaron wouldn't cop to needing anything.  The truth of it was he probably really didn’t need anything, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t have help offered by friends.</p><p>“How about I make you and Jack dinner tonight, huh?  Give you a night off?” Dave offered, and he watched as Aaron's shoulders slumped over and he seemed to deflate before his eyes.  All the bravado had gone and what was left was just his hurt friend.  </p><p>“Thanks Dave,” Aaron whispered, exhaustion and pain and humiliation all fighting for top billing in his chest.  “We’d like that.”</p><p>“Of course, Aaron,” Dave replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, settling in.  “So, I just need to know, did you hit your head?”</p><p>“What?  No.  Why?”  If Aaron had been on his game, if he was able to focus on anything other than the intense throbbing in his arm, he would have caught Dave's jesting tone and saved himself the embarrassment, but as it was, he missed it entirely.  It flew right over his head.</p><p>“Derek said you went to the Urgent Care on your way in to work.  In all my life, I never thought I'd see the day when Aaron Hotchner would seek medical treatment without coercion.”  Aaron rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, well,” Aaron began, sighing, finally connecting the dots a minute too late.  “Everyone makes mistakes.”   It was his turn to joke now, acerbic as his wit may be.  Dave laughed, he always laughed at Aaron's terrible, bone dry jokes.  </p><p>“Does Strauss know yet?”</p><p>“I called her earlier, she's waiting on the full report.  Best case scenario, I get light duty.  She might pull me from travel if I don't play nice.”</p><p>“What's the hold up?”</p><p>“I need to finish my appointment. Didn't have time this morning.”</p><p>“You have to go back?  Why not just go now?”</p><p>“They want to set the break, which I guess means sedation and I need a ride.  I'm just going to wait until Jessica gets back from her trip in a few days, it's fine.” He stopped himself briefly, pressing his shaking hand miserably to his forehead.   Dave nodded his understanding, though he didn't see the point in it.  He excused himself from Aaron's office to return to his own, the stack of papers on his desk wouldn't allow much more inattention, though he'd prefer never to open those files. He'd go back and check on Aaron in a while, once he'd made a dent in his stack.  Throughout the day, Dave had managed to coordinate attacks on Aaron without actually going back in there – first he'd sent Reid out for coffee for the team, then Morgan got lunch for the team, Garcia kept a steady supply of ice flowing, and JJ and Emily were covertly monitoring his desktop notifications (thanks to Garcia) and snagging any new case files coming across his desk before he could get them.  Aaron knew exactly what was going on, but despite how it wounded his pride, he did appreciate their kindness so he bit his tongue every time he felt like complaining that he wasn't an invalid or chastising Dave from down the hall.  The day seemed to drag on and on, but Aaron had to admit that it was made a lot more bearable by his team's attention, and he knew they would all have been bored out of their minds today otherwise so it assuaged his own guilt over being fawned over.  If they'd been ignoring something important on his behalf, he would have been livid.  </p><p>“Quitting time?” Dave asked, popping into Aaron's office, his jacket on and his bag slung over his shoulder.  Aaron regarded him suspiciously.  </p><p>“Two hours early?”</p><p>“You said you needed a ride.”</p><p>“Did I?”</p><p>“You did.  Your chauffeur has arrived...let's blow this popsicle stand.”</p><p>“Five minutes.”  Aaron began, deciding not to protest.  He began shuffling through the files on his desk, doing his best to save face with only one hand, the other useless under a fresh zip lock bag of ice chunks.  Garcia deserved a raise, or maybe a crown and a full day devoted to her worship.  She was indispensable.  Dave watched, biting back his instinct to help – he'd probably pushed the limits of help that Aaron was willing to accept today already, though, so unless the other man asked he was sure he should sit this one out.  </p><p>Five minutes later, the two men were locking up Aaron's office and on their way out the door.   The team watched them leave and didn't try to stop them, the look on Aaron's face was not exactly welcoming, though he didn't exactly look mad – he just looked like he was at his limit for the day and they could respect that.  The ride to the urgent care was silent, Aaron lost in thought and Dave knew at this point, if he needed to know, he'd know. If not, silence was just fine.  Sometimes silence was more than fine.  </p><p>The office was busy, especially for an urgent care office, but neither of them minded.  They settled in for the wait, side by side in chairs that overlooked the play area.  It wasn't exactly ideal, kids coughing and licking things right at their feet, but it came with the territory.  If they both made it out without some manner of communicable disease, they’d be thrilled.  It felt like forever before the nurse was bringing them back into a small procedure room and began to get Aaron settled in and sedated.  She had treated him that morning and remembered him, which brought Dave some comfort.  It was hard to watch his friend be vulnerable, he knew just how excruciating it was for him, so these little mercies were appreciated.  Dave hung back watching until they had him ready to go, doing his best to blend in with the wall and stay out of the way.  When the nurse approached him, he was lost in his own world of thought, planning out what he'd make for dinner once they got back to Aaron's.  </p><p>“He's going to be very sleepy for a while, this procedure is short but pretty painful.  He shouldn't remember much of it, though,” the nurse said, patting Dave on the shoulder softly, trying to gently prepare him for what he was about to see.  “We'll be as quick as possible about it, then we'll splint it up again and you can take him home.  Once the swelling has come down, he'll need to be put in a cast.  Would you like to stand closer?”</p><p>“I'll hang back here, I don't think he,” Dave began, but he caught sight of Aaron on the bed briefly, looking groggy and so exposed in the gown that he changed his mind. “Never mind.  I'll stand beside him if that's alright.”  The nurse nodded and guided him to Aaron's left side.  Aaron blinked up at Dave lazily, as if he was in slow motion, and Dave caught the soft ghost of a smile curve his lips before his eyes fluttered closed and stayed that way.  </p><p>The doctor motioned for the nurse to join him on the other side, and Dave pulled his phone out of his pocket to text the team and let them know what was going on.  Aaron would probably not want him to, but he felt he owed them an explanation, especially after they let the two of them out of the office without so much as one question.  It was the least he could do.  He considered opening up a group text, but instead he decided to go straight for JJ – he trusted her to filter it appropriately and disperse, it was what she did professionally.  As he poked at the keypad he heard groaning sounds coming from his friend and he tried harder to focus, to distract himself.  A few moments later the groans had given way to panic and crying out and he turned his eyes up to watch – the doctor had Aaron's ghastly looking arm between his hands and was poking around with this thumbs, manipulating the broken ends of the bones back into their rightful places.  With one final press, he was done and Aaron was whimpering in what appeared to be the worst sleep of anyone's life.  The nurse bandaged him back up tight in his splint beneath a bulky bag of ice and handed him off to Dave not long after with a packet of information about how to care for his injury, the next steps, and a list of appointments made in advance with his own doctor's office.  Aaron leaned heavily against his friend on the way out of the office, stumbling in his drug induced haze toward the car.  The drive back to Aaron's house was mostly silent, save for a few very odd things Aaron muttered now that his edges were softened.  At times he sang along with the music, his deep voice drifting slightly behind Dean Martin's.  He was holding his injured arm against his chest sadly, like a child with a teddy bear, and Dave hoped the nurse had been right and that he wouldn't remember that visit.  Dave wouldn't likely forget the sounds of his friend crying out for a long time, it was very disconcerting to hear someone like Aaron Hotchner reduced to whimpers.  </p><p>Once inside the dark house, Dave walked Aaron to the couch and helped him sit down before turning on a few lights.  He could see the light pooling under Jack's door upstairs and knew the boy was home and hopefully doing his homework.  Dave wasn't entirely sure what sort of homework they sent home with 5th graders these days, he was just hoping Jack could manage without needing his help.  The house was too quiet, too still, but he knew this was how these two lived.  Aaron thrived on order and quiet in his private life, the only place he could keep the chaos at bay. Still, Dave couldn't cook without music so he took out his phone and began playing some Sinatra quietly, just enough that he could hear without disturbing the peaceful calm in the house.  </p><p>“Papa Dave?” Jack asked, meandering into the kitchen sometime later, startling the man.  “What's up with dad?”  Dave looked at him a little confused and peered out into the front room to see Aaron curled up on the couch asleep, still in his suit and shoes.  The sight was among the sweeter things he'd ever seen in his life.  </p><p>“He'll be okay,” Dave replied softly.  “He's had a rough day but he's just fine.  Let's make some soup, huh?”</p><p>“Thanks Papa Dave!  Can I help?”</p><p>Dave set Jack up with a few stalks of celery to chop before jogging into the front room to check on Aaron. He pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and laid it over his friend gently before heading back into the kitchen to check on Jack's progress.  </p><p>“Papa Dave?” Jack asked, chopping the celery with a surgeon's precision.  “Do you love my dad?”</p><p>Dave paused for a moment, regarding Jack cautiously.  Red lights were flashing wildly in his head now, telling him to proceed with caution.    </p><p>“Of course,” he replied, very matter-of-factly.  “Very much.”  </p><p>“No, no I know that but I mean like...you know...do you love him?  Like my mom did?”</p><p>Dave felt his heart thunder in his chest, unsure of how to navigate these waters, let alone whether Aaron would want him to even dip his toes in.  “Why do you ask?”</p><p>“Don't worry, I'm not...I just...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked.  Never mind.”  </p><p>Dave sucked in his breath and forced himself to smile, trying to make it look effortless while he was standing there dying.  “Yeah, I do, kiddo.  Am I that obvious?”</p><p>Jack laughed.  “Yeah.  A little.  It's nice though.  I don't think he knows...he's sorta dumb about that stuff.”</p><p>It was Dave's turn to laugh this time.  “He is, isn't he?”</p><p>“Yeah. Are you ever gonna tell him?”</p><p>“Oh, I don't know kiddo...you think I should?”</p><p>Jack regarded this seriously, more seriously than Dave would have thought a 10 year old was capable of.  He set his knife down and looked up at Dave with eyes that betrayed his age.  He could tell that the kid had given this a lot of thought, and was thrilled to be included.  He was such a great kid, Aaron was really doing a phenomenal job with him, proving all of his fears about fatherhood wrong.  </p><p>“I think so.  I mean, he's kind of just sad all the time and I think if you told him that you love him maybe he wouldn't be so sad.”</p><p>“He's sad all the time?” Dave asked, setting his own knife down now.  He knew Jack didn't get many opportunities to open himself up, and Dave wanted to encourage it, even if only to prevent him turning out like his father in that respect.  </p><p>“Yeah. He never does anything, he just sits by himself a lot or bugs me about my homework.  I don't know.”</p><p>“I'm sorry Jack, I'm sure that's hard for you,” Dave replied, regarding this information he was being trusted with sadly.  It felt like a solid punch to the gut.</p><p>“I hate it.  Sometimes I ask him to play a game with me if I finish my homework early enough and he will but mostly he just goes to bed and never sleeps.”</p><p>It was pretty clear to Dave that Aaron was going through more than he let on, which wasn't altogether surprising but it hurt to hear it from the kid.  He began throwing the soup together now, tossing the mire-poix into the pan and filling the house with the sound of sizzling vegetables.  The minestrone soup came together quickly, and Jack watched mesmerized by it.  He loved when Dave cooked for them.  His dad was alright, but Dave had a gift and Jack loved food. His favorite nights were when Dave came over and cooked something new for them, something fancy that Jack had never tried and his dad would never make because he was just always too tired.  </p><p>“Could you tell him tonight?” Jack asked, breaking the silence.  Dave almost jumped out of his skin.</p><p>“Tell him...”</p><p>“That you love him.  Will you do it tonight?”</p><p>“Oh,” Dave stammered, taken aback.  “Oh I don't know if tonight...”  He looked into Jack's expectant eyes and found it very difficult to keep his bearings.  “We'll see how he's feeling when he wakes up, yeah?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, it’s clear from Part Two that I’m going to have to keep going.  I had planned to post more of this but I think making a Part Three instead makes more sense, there’s a definite shift in tone here that’s about to happen (and some excitement).  Enjoy the fluff!  It’ll be the last you get for a spell.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aaron was awake for less than five seconds before panic set in.  He couldn't place how he'd gotten there or why his arm hurt so damn much, all he could remember was being at work and then...oh, oh the doctor's office, and then Dave's face above his, and now this. Everything was hazy, too soft around the edges to be real, except the sharp stabbing pain.  He forced himself upright and wobbled a bit, side to side, finally letting his head come to rest in his hands, which had been a mistake.  Fireworks shot through his arm at the mere touch and he forced himself to focus on the bandage for a minute, squinting in the dim light, turning his arm over and over before things finally began coming into focus.  It was that moment, staring at the water filled bag surrounding the splint on his arm that things made sense, he was home, Dave was cooking, the house smelled incredible and his stomach was growling angrily.  The only thing he'd eaten that day had been a few bites of a sandwich, two coffees and at least a half a bottle of ibuprofen.  He was ready for dinner.  </p><p>It wasn't long before he was shuffling into the kitchen on unsure legs, his head was swimming and the room swirling around him.  He reached out to steady himself against the counter, banging into it with his injured arm and letting out a cry that caught Dave and Jack's attention.  Dave rushed to Aaron and wrapped his arms around his friend before he tumbled to the floor, and Jack stared with wide eyes, mortified by what he was seeing.  Like he was hauling the most precious and delicate heirloom, Dave eased Aaron on his wobbly legs across the room and seated him at the table, crouching low to look into his eyes.  </p><p>“Don't worry, Jack,” Dave began, his hands firm on Aaron's knees while he looked back at Jack.  “It's just the medicine they gave him at the doctor's, they had to make him sleep for a bit and its not worn off yet.  He's okay.”  </p><p>“You stayed,” Aaron muttered, his good hand resting atop Dave's now. “You didn't have to stay.”</p><p>“Oh, I think I did,” Dave replied with a grim smile.  </p><p>“You guys were talking and laughing when I walked in...I'm sorry I startled you.  What was so funny?” Aaron tried to maintain his focus, tried to stay lucid.  He could feel the drugs wearing off but it wasn't fast enough for his liking.  Jack shot Dave a very serious look and Dave shrugged and nodded, giving Jack the go ahead to spill the beans.  It hadn't been anything important, but the discussion had been amusingly heated as both of them had vastly different opinions on this very important matter.    </p><p>“We were just debating which was the cooler movie death – Bill Paxton in Aliens, or Bill Paxton in Predator.   I said Predator cos DUH, but he says it was Aliens.  What do you think Dad?”</p><p>Aaron regarded this for a moment, noting the very serious looks on both of their faces all of a sudden.  He wasn't sure what they'd been laughing about, though now he thought of it, it had sounded like they'd been acting out the scenes earlier.  He'd thought that there was a television on in the background a few times when he'd popped in and out of consciousness, but it had clearly just been them shouting out lines from the movies to try and make their point.  </p><p>“Well,” Aaron began, licking his dry lips.  Both Jack and Dave were looking at him expectantly, like each of them knew he'd join their side. “What about when he died in Terminator?”  </p><p>“No way,” Jack responded, shaking his head.  Dave followed suit.  Aaron just sat there, incredulous.  </p><p>“I suppose there's only one way to settle this,” Dave offered, standing now to bring the bowls of steaming soup to the table. “We're going to have to watch some movies.”  </p><p>Once the table was set and ready, Dave set to unwrapping Aaron's arm, getting the bag that used to be ice and was now mostly just an oversize water balloon off of the splint so they could eat dinner.  He'd read carefully through all of the doctor's instructions, in fact he'd read them aloud to Jack so he could help when he was able.  Aaron was more than capable of taking care of himself, but sometimes he needed some nudging in the right direction, otherwise he had a tendency to be a bit reckless with his own self-care.  </p><p>“Can Dave stay over tonight?” Jack asked quietly as they all dug into their soup.  Dave trained his eyes on his bowl, hoping Aaron didn't suspect him of orchestrating this conversation – for once, he was completely innocent.   Mostly, anyway.  Aaron glanced over at Dave, then at his son and shrugged.  </p><p>“I'm sure Dave would like to sleep in his own bed tonight,” Aaron began, but quickly noted the dejected look on Jack's face and adjustd his trajectory.  “But he's always welcome to stay if he wants.”</p><p>“Do you wanna?” Jack asked, turning to Dave now.  Dave had just shoveled a bite of soup into his mouth and peered up, looking from father to son carefully, trying to read the room.  Jack clearly wanted him to stay – did Aaron?  He couldn't tell.  He'd place a bet on no any given day, but there was a sort of look on Aaron's face that almost seemed to say yes.  It was subtle, a look that just said it was nice not to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders for one night but he'd manage if he had to, just like always.  It was the same look that had flashed across his face when Dave had offered to make dinner hours ago.  It was that look that made Dave mutter his answer, hoping he'd made the right decision.</p><p>“I suppose my bed won't miss me for one night,” Dave replied, winking at Jack.  “I'll post up on the couch and watch Bill Paxton's magnificent performance in Aliens.”</p><p>“Fine, then we watch Predator after dinner...it's better anyway.”  Jack and Dave were back at it, and Aaron just sat back enjoying the show. Truthfully, he didn't care for either of those movies much – they'd been the influence of Morgan and Emily on Jack, he'd just had to get used to all of these things he said he'd never let Jack see when he also had to live his life as a single father relying on help from others.  Sometimes Jack saw movies that he wouldn't have seen at home, but it hadn't hurt anything and then he had a bond with people who loved him – there were worse things.  </p><p>“Do I not get a say in what we watch?” Aaron piped in, and both of them paused mid-argument to stare at him like he was utterly insane.  </p><p>“No, I think you forfeited that when you brought up Terminator,” Dave replied with a sly smile and a wink at Jack.  Aaron straightened himself up and tried to look as offended as he could.  </p><p>“What's wrong with Terminator?”</p><p>“Nothing...if you like bad movies.”</p><p>“Bad movies?!”  Aaron couldn't believe his ears.  Dave and Jack just broke out in wild laughter.  </p><p>“Okay okay, Terminator is fine.”</p><p>“Just fine?!”</p><p>“What do you want from us, Aaron?” Dave asked, trying to catch his breath.  There were days he missed how little and precious Jack had been as a toddler, but boy he sure loved this growing up thing.  He had someone to gang up on Aaron with that knew as well as he did how to get right under his skin.  Aaron, however, did not enjoy it nearly as much.  </p><p>“We're watching Terminator tonight.  My house, my broken arm, my choice.”</p><p>“So we're weaponizing the injury now huh?”  Dave chuckled and stood to begin clearing the table, stacking bowls quickly.  Aaron rose to his feet to help, gesturing for Jack to do the same.  </p><p>“No,” Aaron replied in a voice dripping with guilt.  “Oh, fine. Yes.  I am.”</p><p>“Good. Good, go ahead.  We'll watch your movie, Aaron, and as soon as you fall asleep we'll put on something better.”  </p><p>Aaron stared at them, one then the other, and just sighed.  He'd done this to himself, bringing Jack up the way he had.  He headed up the stairs to his bedroom to change out of his work clothes, hoping he'd manage it without much difficulty – getting dressed that morning had been misery.  As it turned out, he did fine – a few bumps and a few curse words later, he was in sweats and ready to go to bed even though he'd fought so hard for his movie.  Sometimes he was shocked by his own stubbornness.  He was about to do something rather uncharacteristic and concede so that he could just go to bed when his blackberry started buzzing, notifications coming in one after another.  He reached for it and began scrolling through message after message – JJ had sent 3 about a case they'd need to leave for in the morning, the team were groaning about it in a group text now, and the final one was a message from Strauss.  He muted the team conversation and sat on his bed to read through Strauss' long, drawn out (and very apologetic for her) message about how the case that his team was being called out on was in direct opposition of his light duty orders as it would involve too much time in the field, so while his team (lead by Derek, who was likely already blowing a fuse in the group text) would be flying to Florida in the morning, he'd be doing offender interviews in the DC area.  The team had been slated to share them over the course of the next month, but Strauss was putting them entirely on his plate now.  He tapped a quick “understood” to Strauss, she'd know he wasn't happy, he didn't have to stay anything further.  He didn't bother to open back up the group text, just slid his phone into his pocket and made his way back down the stairs to find Jack loading the dishwasher while Dave wiped down the table.  He could get used to this.  Dave looked up to meet Aaron's glare when he walked in, both of them nodding in an air of silent understanding, neither one wanting to bring it up in front of Jack for the time being.  </p><p>“Hey, uh, Jack?” Aaron asked, running his hand through his mop of bedhead, stopping to scratch at the back of his neck for a moment. “Why don't you run upstairs and get ready for bed, okay?  We'll get the movie going.”</p><p>“What's up?” Jack asked, and Aaron sighed, the kid was too smart.  “You guys have to go away?”</p><p>“No...well, yes, but I'm staying.  Just go get ready for bed okay?  Give us a minute to talk?”</p><p>“Yeah, okay dad.  You guys should talk.”  Jack looked at Dave sternly, and it almost felt like a reprimand.  Dave shrunk a little – how'd that kid do that?  All at once he just became as scary as his father. Once Jack had left the room, the two men approached each other and Aaron pulled out his phone first.  </p><p>“You saw JJ's message?”</p><p>“I did, and I'm under the impression that you may have received a separate message from Strauss that's set Derek off.”</p><p>“Can't be helped.  You'll need to calm him down on the jet tomorrow, I know he doesn't agree with Strauss' decision to pull me but I can't do anything about it right now.”</p><p>“Did you say anything to her?”</p><p>“What should I have said, Dave?  I don't even have clearance to have a weapon on me until I submit to evaluation, and if JJ is correct in her assumption, this case could get dangerous.  I would rather be with you, but I don't have much of a leg to stand on right now.”</p><p>“I understand.  So what will you be doing while we're away?”</p><p>“I'll try to help Garcia out where I can, you guys can always call me, otherwise Strauss has me set up doing offender interviews the rest of the time.”</p><p>“Offender interviews by yourself?”  Dave couldn't believe his ears.  Sure, the inmates were shackled and there were guards but that didn't mitigate all of the danger.  They always worked them in teams.  Aaron just looked at him and shrugged.</p><p>“It's fine, Dave.  You've got enough to deal with, don't worry about me too.”</p><p>Dave rolled his eyes and patted Aaron on the shoulder, heading into the front room to begin getting the movie ready for them.  He'd almost thought about saying something, doing what Jack had wanted, but in that moment he'd been so infuriated by Aaron's refusal to just be upset about something that was unfair that he couldn't make it happen.  Maybe later.  Aaron followed Dave and took a seat on the couch beside the other man, staring straight ahead – he knew he'd upset his friend.  He couldn't really understand why, but he could feel it.  </p><p>“You can wear some of my clothes to bed, feel free to grab whatever works for you.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Dave muttered, looking down at his phone and trying to catch up on the wild group text.  The entire team was wild, it was almost impossible for him to keep up.  He knew Aaron was in the group text too, but he was clearly not going to look at it at all, which frustrated him even further.  “You know, if you'd just tell the team it's okay, they might stop this feeding frenzy they're in right now.”</p><p>Aaron regarded the statement coolly, rubbing mindlessly at the edges of his splint.  “Sometimes they just need to get it out,” he replied, finally, and Dave knew that was all Aaron was going to say on the matter.  No, tonight wasn't the night to confess any feelings, tonight he'd be repressing anger instead of confessing love.  They blurred together frequently, they fed off of each other, one couldn't exist without the other.  Dave's anger wasn't at Aaron, but it was fueled by his refusal to just stick up for himself.  If any member of the team was treated the way he was, he'd be livid as a hornet and wouldn't stop until the injustice was sorted, but when it came to him, he just didn't have that same spit.  </p><p>“Right.” It had come out with a little more venom than Dave had intended.  </p><p>“Dave, it's out of my hands right now.  I'll work on Strauss this week, I just...can't.  I can't tonight.   Please.”</p><p>There it was, Dave's heart shattered.  There was the real Aaron, the one that he kept carefully hidden, the vulnerable one who needed a hug more than he needed a reprimand.  Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.  </p><p>“I'm sorry, Aaron.  I didn't mean to push so hard.  I'll talk to the team.”</p><p>“Thank you.”  </p><p>Almost as if on cue, Jack bounded into the room with a stack of pillows and blankets, ready to set himself up on the floor at their feet.  He tossed a blanket and a pillow in Dave's direction, and another at his father before burrowing into his nest.  It didn't take long before Aaron's eyes were drooping, head flopping from one side to another as his body tried to force himself to sleep and he fought against it with all his might.  Dave noticed it right away and without giving it much thought, he slid a pillow onto his lap and pulled Aaron over to him until he was lying with his head in Dave's lap.  Once he'd settled into position, curled up there around his injured arm protectively, Dave reached over and pulled a blanket up over his sleeping friend.  They'd barely made it ten minutes into the movie.  </p><p>“You wanna watch Predator?” Dave whispered, and Jack poked his head out of his blankets to see his dad sleeping.  </p><p>“This movie's okay...” he whispered back, and Dave nodded with a smile.  </p><p>“Yeah, it's pretty good. Just don't tell your dad we said that.”</p><p>“Guess tonight's not a good night for you to...you know...”</p><p>“Oh no, kiddo, it's perfect.  I think this is a good first step, don't you?” Dave asked, running his fingers gently through Aaron's hair, smoothing it back at the temples.  Jack smiled, he supposed it was a good first step.  His dad was sleeping, and that hadn't happened in a long time, not really.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well now we’ve really stepped in it huh?  Advent of Aaron Hotchner went from the idea that I’d do 25 separate stories but now I’m just doing a big one that’s gotten out of control.  I suppose I should mention that I invent my own team/timelines - this is set sometime around Season 11 as far as team ages go, but clearly it’s just the core team and Strauss is still alive because I can’t let her go, she was too fun to blame.  I really liked how awful she was.  So, anyway, this story has clearly developed a mind of its own.  Sorry about the cliffhanger!  Not really, though.  ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I baked you cookies, sir!”</p><p>Penelope Garcia was, by all accounts, an angel on Earth.  Aaron smiled up at her from behind his desk and thanked her, gesturing for her to have a seat across from him.  </p><p>“I'm so, so, so, SO sorry about your arm...and that you're stuck here instead of out there with them...but I'm happy to have you here...oh I shouldn't have said that, that was probably rude I'm sorry...” she stammered, catching herself in a loop of happysad that made Aaron's head spin. He shook his head softly.  </p><p>“Garcia, it's fine,” Aaron replied quietly.  She stopped talking, sensing that she'd overstepped.  He continued.  “I need to be in Lewisburg by 1pm.  I'll need to be on the road in the next 45 minutes to make it, so we should get started.  Do you want to do it in here or your office?”</p><p>“Here is fine,” Garcia mumbled, still reeling from her tirade earlier.  She pulled out her laptop and began setting it up on her boss' desk while he did the same with his own, and once they were ready she worked her magic and suddenly there were the faces of all of their beloveds.  </p><p>“HOTCH!” Morgan cried out, his frustration boiling over. “Man, you told me you were okay!”</p><p>“I am.  It's just a precaution, Strauss didn't feel comfortable sending me into the field for this case, there was nothing I could have said.  By the time you're back it'll be handled.  What are you working with so far?”</p><p>“No, don't do that...don't change the subject...Hotch I don't belong leading this team.”</p><p>“Regardless, you are.  I have to leave for Lewisburg Prison in just over a half hour, so I really haven't got time to argue.  Tell me what you know.”</p><p>Dave piped in this time, leaning forward.  “She's sending you to LEWISBURG alone?!”</p><p>“Dave,” Aaron began, shaking his head.  He glanced over his laptop at Garcia, his eyes pleading for her to help him, to save him, and she nodded her understanding.  </p><p>“Okay, my fine furry friends, here's what I know so far...” and then she launched into a detailed history of each victim, each site, and Aaron found himself wondering why she even needed them at all.  She could put them out of a job, if she was so inclined, but they were all grateful she chose to keep them around.  Aaron sat back, listening intently and watching the faces of his team for signs that they were okay without him – he knew they were fine, but something was making him feel very odd, like something was out of place, someone had moved something in the universe and forgotten to put it back in the right place when they were done.  He just chalked it up to his not being on the jet with them, but it still nagged at him, right behind his breast bone that feeling sat.  Most of them were flipping through the paper files while Garcia spoke, every so often piping in with a question, but Dave...Dave was just looking at Aaron, unable to mask the worry written all over his features.  Aaron struggled to avoid making eye contact, Dave's worry was making him feel nervous and that wouldn't do any of them any good.  </p><p>“I'm scheduled to be doing interviews from 1pm to 4pm.  Call if you need anything.” The call ended abruptly, it was better that way.  Garcia sucked in her breath, sharp, and Aaron looked up at her noting that even she felt rattled by something.  </p><p>“Garcia?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.  She turned to him, almost startled that he was still sitting there.  Or that she was still there in his office.  She’d gone far away.  </p><p>“I'm sorry sir...I just had the strangest feeling...sorry, I'll get going back to my desk now.  Are you absolutely sure I can't come with you? Agent Rossi seems really...” she began, noting that Aaron's phone was buzzing now and it was Rossi calling.  “Rossi seems really worried, sir, are you going to get that?”</p><p>“No,” he sighed, declining the call.  “I need you guys to focus on the case, not me.  I know that everyone on this team is set in their ways, and when something changes it's not handled well but there are people dying in Tampa, and I'm not one of them so let's put our focus where it belongs.  I'm going to be fine.  I have 8 hours of round trip driving time ahead of me today, so call if you need me.”</p><p>Garcia nodded and picked up her belongings, excusing herself from the office.  Aaron looked at his phone – he had 5 minutes to get on the road.  That nagging feeling was still there, curling now through his ribs, constricting his breaths little by little.  He picked up his phone and dialed Dave's number as he stood, mindlessly reaching for his briefcase with his injured arm – just as Dave picked up, Aaron hissed at the pain from his careless mistake and bit into his lip.  </p><p>“Aaron?”</p><p>“Yeah, Dave, sorry,” Aaron began, sitting back down with a sigh.  Sometimes he couldn't believe his own stupidity.  “I need to get on the road, but I just didn't want,” oh, he was out of his depths here.  He wasn't even sure why he'd called Dave.  Guilt?  Something else?  </p><p>“You keep your phone on you, okay?  I know you don't like to take anything personal in those rooms with you but please, Aaron, something just feels...please keep your phone.”</p><p>“Okay,” Aaron replied coolly, though he had no intention of doing such.  Dave was right, he hated to have anything personal on him in case something happened.  He'd had his fair share of criminals involving themselves in his personal life, and keeping his phone on him seemed like an open invitation.  </p><p>“You're not going to do it, are you?” Dave asked, and Aaron sighed.  </p><p>“Dave I have to go,” Aaron replied softly, trying to keep his voice as calm and soothing as he could.  Everyone was on edge.  “Get the job done and come back, we still owe Jack two more movies.  For science.”  Dave laughed, feeling a little of his worry melt away as he thought of those movie nights, casual invitations to spend more time at Aaron's house.  </p><p>“Be safe, Aaron,” Dave said softly, his voice almost pleading.  Aaron felt his breath catch in his chest, held captive by whatever was lurking there.  </p><p>“You too, Dave.”</p><p>He was on the road late, but he'd still make it.  He'd given himself 4 hours, only needed 3 and a half, he'd be fine.  The ride was long and boring, nothing but his music to keep him company and keep his mind on task. First up was Velvet Underground.  Something about Lou Reed warbling in his ear always helped him focus, like he was always ever so gently giving him the information he needed through the sound waves.  A prophet from another time.  He'd put his phone on silent, so by the time he reached the prison and had parked, he had missed six calls and about a thousand messages in the group text.  He quickly listened to the voicemails left, most of them just the team asking if he was there, if he was safe, and he sighed, shoving his phone down into the front pocket of his briefcase mindlessly.  He didn't have time to reply, he'd do it after his interviews, as it was he'd only have time to get himself checked in and seated before the first prisoner was brought to him.  He was supposed to get through three today – one arsonist, one rapist and one thief who dabbled in murder.  Nothing terribly exciting or dangerous, he could see why Strauss didn't mind him being on his own, if she'd even given it that much thought.  He liked to think she had.  <i>You gotta keep your head up high</i> Lou Reed sang to him as he walked into the prison, surrendering his belongings and his personal space, his privacy, his life.  He knew there was risk associated with this, and that feeling in his chest grew, while the guards patted him down.  He felt like he was suffocating.  When the guard asked him if he had a weapon or his phone, he answered no quickly, without even thinking, and afterward he regretted it but something in him just told him that maybe, this once, he could listen to Dave.  Over protective Dave.  With his briefcase in hand, he followed the guard through the prison, each door opening and locking behind them, that sound of those heavy doors always sent chills down his spine.  He knew he wasn't a prisoner, he could leave anytime he wanted, but knowing he was sealed in tight was something he never got used to.  It elicited a small scale panic in the most steel of nerves.  <i>You gotta keep your head up high, you need a little hope to carry on...</i></p><p>The room they did the interviews in was more or less just a cell without the amenities. This prison had a rough reputation, and it lived up to that and then some.  The guards wore mean faces and brandished their weapons proudly, and the inmates didn't seem at all scared of them.  Aaron slid his phone into the secret pocket in his jacket lining before he was joined in the room.  The first prisoner Aaron faced was a meek looking man, with a shaved head and glasses too big for his face.  He had a cut across the bridge of his nose and his hands shook in their shackles.  He seemed like the sort of man that didn't fare well in prison, or in life for that matter.  He spoke freely, proudly, of his crimes – setting fire mostly to places that had meant something to him, places where he'd felt slighted by people who thought nothing of him.  </p><p>“You shouldn't be here today,” the man whispered, and Aaron felt his chest tighten.  </p><p>“What did you say?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the prisoner.  The smaller man shrugged effortlessly, like he simply didn't care about anything. Like a man who knew he wasn't long for the world and was almost looking forward to it.  </p><p>“You shouldn't have come.”</p><p>Not one minute later, before Aaron had time to consider what the prisoner had said, alarms were sounding, echoing down the hall, and the door to their room was thrown open quickly.  Three guards rushed inside, the first grabbing the prisoner and, without any hesitation, snapping his neck like it was effortless.  Aaron watched in horror as the smaller man slumped over in his chair, the ghost of a smile on his face.  The second guard glanced nervously out the window at the yard, while the third came up behind Aaron and brought his baton down with a crack against his upper back, sending him sprawling forward out of his chair.  He landed hard, reaching out instinctively with his arms and felt himself crumble against the pain but he didn't cry out, he couldn't.  The next blow came to the back of his head and he was out, swirling through the ether with Lou Reed.  <i>You wonder if your luck is ever gonna turn around at all...</i></p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This part gets pretty dark.  Thank you  SO MUCH to everyone who is reading and commenting, you're all the BEST.  I hope you continue to like this one and where it is headed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The air hung heavy with the scent of cleaning fluids and something darker, blood and death and pain.  Aaron blinked himself awake slowly, his eyes unfocused and murky.  Above him was a figure he didn't immediately recognize, but that figure smelled like cigarette smoke and sweat, unfamiliar but somehow a smell that was so a part of some deep place inside of him that it made his stomach lurch.  </p><p>“What...” he croaked, twisting in agony.  His head was throbbing, his entire body was sore and he was utterly disoriented.  The figure standing over him leaned in closer, his stale breath now all Aaron could smell and he thought he'd be sick.  </p><p>“Shhh...” the figure hissed, glancing toward the guards standing sentinel outside of the cell.  Aaron groaned.  He couldn't stand being vulnerable, in the dark, he just needed to get his bearings.  He imagined the smell of Garcia's cookies, sitting there on his desk and somehow it settled his stomach enough that he could focus.  The Warden, Daniel Sheridan, that's who was looming over him.  He was coming slowly into focus, just enough.  </p><p>“Keep quiet, please...” the Warden muttered, hazarding a glance back at the guards at the door.  “This got nothing to do with us.  Just keep yer eyes and mouth shut.”</p><p>“OI!  Shut up or I'll crack ya both!” one of the guards shouted, banging his baton against the cell bars angrily.  The noise rang through Aaron's skull and he shut his eyes tight against the pain as if it would help.  He chastised himself for his weakness, he should have already taken charge of the situation but he couldn't seem to move his stupid, useless body.  The other guard entered the cell, he had a quieter demeanor about him but his face was no less mean than any of the others.  In fact, it might have been worse – his eyes were cold, his mouth set in a fine line.  His baton hung from his belt, arms folded across his chest.  </p><p>“Wasn't 'sposed to be FBI here today, Sheridan,” the man said through gritted teeth, and the Warden seemed to shrink a little.  Aaron wasn't sure the last time he saw a guard intimidate a Warden, but it put things a little more in perspective here.  </p><p>“They sprung it on me last night, Deano, I couldn't...” Sheridan muttered, and the guard spat at his feet.  </p><p>“Shoulda tried harder.  His blood is on your hands, not ours.”  </p><p>“What about Larssen?  His blood on my hands too?  No one was 'sposed to die today, you assholes.  You told me...”</p><p>“Larssen volunteered,” the thin lipped guard sighed, shaking his head. Sheridan could be so stupid sometimes.  “B'sides.  Things change. Situations evolve.  You let a FED in here.”</p><p>Aaron struggled to open his eyes again and sit up, but before he could move much the guard had grabbed him by the jacket and was dragging him off of the small cot and to his feet.  Aaron swayed there for a moment, desperately willing himself to steady and straighten up.  For shits sake Aaron, be a man he heard his father's voice shout at him from somewhere in his depths, the same place that awful stale smell lived, and as always, he did his best to obey. He made it to halfway straight before the guard smiled, if you could call it a smile, and twisted him around, thrusting his injured arm up behind his back.  Twisting, pulling, pushing, it was all a blur and Aaron gritted his teeth, forcing eye contact with the Warden all the while. The Warden, coward that he was, looked away at the sound of  Aaron's shoulder popping, tendons and ligaments giving up the good fight. Aaron saw stars and bit into his lips hard enough to draw blood but managed not to cry out, he wouldn't give them that satisfaction.  Not this time.  Clearly satisfied with himself, the guard tossed Aaron back onto the cot, his arm limp at his side, and he didn't bother to try to get up.  These guards meant business, and until he was certain what that business was, he wasn't eager to get back into the mix.    </p><p>“Just in case you needed a reminder not to be a big damn hero, Agent Hotchner.”  </p><p>It wasn't long before everything went dark again, and Aaron drifted back into space.</p><p>…....................................................................................................................</p><p>Tampa was unreasonably hot, humid and the team had all overdressed as usual. JJ's pantsuit was sticking to her in all the wrong places, and she'd given up on her hair being down, instead tossing it up in a haphazard messy bun on top of her head.  Emily had already abandoned her jacket in favor of a short sleeve top, but found herself wondering if a swimsuit would be more appropriate – they'd at least blend in better.  Reid seemed to be dragging in the heat, though he claimed he was fine, he was used to it growing up in Vegas but they all knew he was full of it.  Dave just kept muttering something about being Italian, as if it had any bearings on the situation.  They just ignored it, mostly.  </p><p>“Let's just get this done,” Morgan sputtered to Emily and Reid as they stood on the sidewalk, wiping his head with a handkerchief and chugging from an ice cold bottle of water.  They hadn't been there long, but it was long enough for their tastes – though none of them would have complained if they were there for fun.   </p><p>“Hey, guys?” JJ called, jogging toward the group from inside of the precinct.  The team were huddled together in the only shade on the sidewalk when she approached.  “Guys, its Garcia, she needs to talk to us...”  It wasn't long before they had all filed back inside the precinct, basking in the glorious air conditioning.  They made their way to the small office they'd commandeered and shut the door behind them, grabbing Dave from one of the interrogation rooms along the way.  </p><p>“Go ahead, Garcia, we're all here.”</p><p>“It's Hotch,” Garcia stammered, her voice shaky on the tiny phone speaker.  It hadn't been what any of them were expecting to hear.  “They aren't saying much yet but the prison is on lock down, something is happening and Hotch is still inside.  No one can reach the Warden or any of the guards.  I talked to Strauss, she said all kinds of people are headed that way, important people, but...he's inside and he's alone.  Do you think he's okay?”</p><p>“He's always okay,” Reid snapped quickly, sounding almost sure of himself but also sort of just trying to convince himself it was true.  Dave felt his heart leap into his throat, a rush of fury and nausea and something he couldn't place all swirling through his head at once. They all stood, wide eyed, in awkward silence gaping at the phone for a moment before Emily cleared her throat.  </p><p>“What can we do, Garcia?” Emily asked, running her hand through her hair, wishing she'd brought something to put it up with.  Why was JJ always a step ahead of her?  Someday she'd get her life together, too.  Be enough of a grown up to have a hair tie on her, at least.  She scanned the desk and noticed a small pile of rubber bands looped in a ball, tangled around paperclips. She sighed and grabbed the small wad, fingers working nervously at untangling it.  It kept her mind occupied for a moment, narrowed her focus.  Desperate times, she thought, tugging at the bands until one came loose.  She might regret this later when she had a bald spot from pulling the ponytail out, but for now she wouldn't die of heat stroke.  You win some, you lose some.  </p><p>Garcia was silent. Everyone was silent.  “Garcia?  What can we do?” Emily asked again, her voice laced with the tiniest bit of frustration, and still the silence remained.  Dave approached the phone almost aggressively, but Morgan grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back gently, lifting the phone to his lips so she could hear him loud and clear.  </p><p>“Listen to me, baby girl, we need you to tell us how to help.  I know you're worried, but we need you to talk to us.  Is there anything we can do?”</p><p>“No, no, no...no you have to catch your scumbag and get back here, Hotch would be so mad if he knew I even told you guys...I shouldn't have said anything...” she muttered, and they could hear her furiously clicking away at her keyboard.  Morgan sighed.  </p><p>“We'll get him as fast as we can,” Morgan said and ended the call before anyone had further time to dive into discussion.  He was in charge of this team, temporarily as it may be.  He needed to make sure they accomplished their goal and did so quickly so they could help their wayward leader before he ended up in charge permanently – something that made him want to crawl out of his skin.  There had been a time in his life he thought he'd wanted Hotch's job, but now...there was nothing anyone could give him to make him take it.  </p><p>…...................................................................................................................</p><p>Hours had passed while Aaron was asleep.  He woke to the sound of the Warden and the guard talking in hushed voices, but he couldn't make out enough words to understand it.  The cot he laid on was stiff and smelled like urine, and he hoped to God it wasn't his own.  Somehow, in some part of him, he knew it wasn't.  He was in a prison, he was in a cell, locked in with the Warden...he supposed the Warden was locked in, anyway.  Not sure, not sure about that one.  His mental faculties were failing, he was acutely aware that he had a concussion, nothing seemed to make any sense and as soon as things lined up they scattered again.  He couldn't keep thoughts straight, he couldn't think of words that fit, everything was just so wrong.  Jack's face came into focus for a brief moment and his heart constricted, a lump forming in his throat.  How could he keep doing this to Jack?  That kid, for no reason whatsoever, trusted him with his life – and he'd shown time and again he wasn't worthy of that trust.  Here was just another glaring example.  He was falling down into a deep emotional pit when he heard one of the guards approach him – the one that smelled like Old Spice and chewing tobacco.  He couldn't see them well enough, but he could identify them by their smells.  Old Spice, he called the big one, though he was sure the man's name was Jerry.  The smaller, meaner one he'd heard called Deano, but he just called him Pot Roast. And then there was the Warden, Sheridan, who turned his stomach with his stale cigarette breath.  The man smelled just like his father had, every bit of him.</p><p>“Lookie who decided to join us,” spat Old Spice, looming over Aaron's bed. “You with us, sleeping beauty?”</p><p>Aaron regarded him through the swirl of intense pain in his head that seemed to radiate up and down his entire right side, recognizing him finally as the guard who had killed the inmate he'd been interviewing.  He couldn't move, breathing was agony.  </p><p>“Let him be, Jerry,” the other guard, Pot Roast, called from outside the cell. “He ain't part of this.  I think he got the idea.  You got the idea Agent?”</p><p>Aaron turned his head to the side, attempting to acknowledge the guard, but he couldn't speak.  It seemed that the guard understood him though.  It had been enough.  </p><p>“He's got the idea, Jer, leave him be.”</p><p>“He's just so pretty...lookit him in his little suit and tie...” Jerry muttered, crouching low and staring deep into Aaron's eyes.  Aaron didn't flinch.  He was barely holding on by a thread, but he'd be damned if he would show this ape any fear.  He would rather die.  The other guard, the smaller one with the cruel face just sighed and nodded, turning his back on the cell.  Aaron recognized the move quickly as a sort of passive acceptance and he braced himself for the worst.  The way Old Spice was looking at him scared him deep in his core, shook his resolve.    </p><p>“He ain't that pretty but if it bothers you, guess it wouldn't be so bad if you just made him a little harder to look at.  Watch yourself, we can't kill no Feds Jer.”</p><p>“Don't wanna kill him...” Jerry muttered, running his baton gently along Aaron's cheek, caressing it like a lover.  Aaron stared hard into his eyes, unable to move.  He just stared.  And he continued staring as Jerry lifted the baton and crashed the butt into the bridge of Aaron's nose, spraying blood all over both of them.  Aaron didn't move, just groaned in agony, feeling the blood flow down his face and pool against his cheek.  Now he couldn't smell the urine on the cot, at least.  </p><p>“Jerry!” the Sheridan cried out, pulling the guard back.  Jerry shoved Sheridan away from him and stormed out of the cell with a pleased look on his face.  “You can't do that to a Fed!  We're in deep enough shit as it is!”</p><p>“Sleeping Beauty ain't so pretty now.”</p><p>….........................................................................................................................</p><p>Their unsub was Thomas Midway, age 24, theatrical and suicidal.  He was cornered in a convenience store on the beach, hiding inside of the beer cooler.  They had managed to get all but two hostages out and somehow clear the busy promenade of tourists and beachgoers.  There were police barricades and flashing lights as far as the eye could see, and the BAU had their sights on only Midway.  He had explosives on him, and he was ready to finish it all. Emily was on the bullhorn, her voice loud and commanding, trying to get him to come out.  They'd profiled enough to know he wouldn't listen to a man, but he might listen to a woman and if Emily couldn't do it, JJ was waiting in the wings with Plan B.  Meanwhile, Derek and Dave were working their way in through the back of the building, into the office.  It was slow going, but they made it inside and crept through the eerily quiet store, the soft sounds of Christmas music echoing through the aisles of soda and chips.  On Morgan’s count of 3, they advanced on the beer cooler, peeking through the cases at Midway who was wearing his explosives proudly.  Derek didn't think it was enough to cause much harm as long as Midway didn’t get out of the secured cooler, so he motioned for Dave to close in.  </p><p>“STAND BACK!” Midway shouted as they entered the cooler, but Derek and Dave did not obey.  They continued their steady creep forward, and Midway began to shake angrily, holding the detonator in his fist.  </p><p>“Let these people go, Midway.  They're not the ones that hurt you.”</p><p>“Everyone hurts someone,” Midway replied, sweating bullets.  “Everyone!”</p><p>Derek reached down and slowly pulled the male hostage to his feet, then the female, and ushered them out the door.  As soon as Midway saw this, he panicked.</p><p>“DAVE!  OUT!” Derek cried, watching almost as if in slow motion while Midway opened his hand to let the detonator drop to the ground.  It hit the floor and sent the whole place into flames moments after Dave and Derek had leaped out of the cooler and shut the door behind them.  Beer and glass exploded everywhere and the 4 survivors found themselves trapped under shelves of blasted potato chips and motor oil.  Derek had been correct about the explosives being weak, but they had still done considerable damage, and Midway was gone, painted all over the wreckage of the store.  He'd been the final target.  The hostages were just bait, a way to get people to see his grand finale.  </p><p>“Rossi?!” Derek called, pushing the shelf up off of he and the hostages.  They all patted themselves down, making sure they'd come out okay.  Bumps, bruises and some painful cuts from shrapnel but they were all more or less alright.  Derek looked around frantically and saw Dave lying on the floor about ten feet away, on his stomach not moving.  “Rossi!” He scrambled over to his friend and checked him over, noting a gash on his forehead that was bleeding profusely.  He saw Dave's eyes flutter open and blink a few times.  </p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“Yeah...” Dave muttered, trying to push himself up.  Derek grabbed hold of his kevlar and helped pull him up to sitting, his back against the one standing shelf in the place.  The store was hardly more than a pile of rubble now, but it was sealed up tight.   They were trapped inside.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Got your head good there, man,” Derek said, ripping into a package of car rags beside him on the floor and pressing them to the cut on his friend's head.  “You stay here, I gotta see if we can get out.”  He began pacing around the enclosed area, looking for an opening, a path to the outside.  It was sweltering in there and the scent of smoke and death hung heavy in the air.  He heard his phone ring and felt like jumping for joy, he hadn't even thought of that yet.  </p><p>“MORGAN!” Emily shouted into the phone when she heard him pick up.  “Did you guys get out?!  Where are you?  What happened?”  Unflappable Emily sounded like she'd been panicking.  </p><p>“Emily Prentiss, were you scared?” he asked, injecting a small amount of levity into the situation.  She would have punched him if she could get to him.  </p><p>“Shut up.  Shut up.  Where are you?”</p><p>“We're trapped inside, everyone is alive except Midway.  Dave's hurt though, we gotta get him checked out – woah, woah, what're you doin' man?!” Derek shouted as one of the hostages began checking Dave out, peering into his wound and cleaning it out with a bottle of water from one of the coolers.  </p><p>“I'm a nurse, Agent, you do your job and I'll do mine.  It's the least I can do. You saved our lives.”</p><p>Derek nodded and began pacing around again, knocking over shelving units that had been blasted into one another, pressed up against the windows and doors. The building more closely resembled a cave than a store at this point.  </p><p>“The First Responders are here, they're trying to find the safest way in – they said the building is barely standing as it is, moving the wrong pile of rubble could cause it to collapse entirely.  Sit tight, Morgan.”</p><p>“Any word on Hotch?” Morgan asked, sliding down next to Dave, a silent agreement to listen to Emily and do as she said.  The last thing he wanted to do was kick in a door and kill them all.  </p><p>“Nothing yet,” Emily replied, her voice strained.  “We need to get you out of there first, we can focus on Hotch afterward.”</p><p>“Yes ma'am,” Derek replied, almost sarcastically, and he was pretty sure he could feel her roll her eyes through the phone.  </p><p>“Don't you dare,” she spat, hanging up the phone.  Derek chuckled.  </p><p>….........................</p><p>In the prison, things were getting out of control – at least that's what it looked like to someone like Aaron, who shouldn't have been there.  The prisoners had all been let out of their cells, save the ones who wanted no part in the plan.  Rioting had begun, fires lit in cells, the yards were full on chaos.  Pot Roast stood guard at the cell holding the Warden and Agent Hotchner, as if he was doing them some favors by keeping them out of the hands of the prisoners, but Aaron wouldn't have minded being out there on his own instead.  Inside of his cell, things were changing as well.  Pot Roast had decided that he was done inflicting harm, but was now in the mood to pass it on.  </p><p>“Sheridan,” Pot Roast called in a sing-song voice.  “You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking you saw a way out here, letting this Fed in today.  I'm thinking you wanted him here to protect you.  A bargaining chip.  You keep him safe, he keeps you safe.  But that ain't working so good now is it?  Nahhhh, he's just baggage now and you're sucking up to me again.  So here's what I'm thinking we do about this little situation you got us in...”</p><p>Sheridan stood up and squared his shoulders, trying to look intimidating, but his thin frame and pot belly weren't doing him any favors.  Still, he put on his best show.</p><p>“What do you think, Deano?  You think you can intimidate me?  This is my prison! You can't intimidate me.”</p><p>“Oh, I don't need to do that.  Nah.  You, Sheridan, you're already in a crock of shit here with this...wait'll the boys start rioting out there.  Wait'll shit really winds up.  You're in too deep, you shoulda stayed home today, let us kill you later.  No I got plans for you now...you're gonna take care of this Fed yourself.  Just you.  Get him outta our hair, blood on your hands.”</p><p>“I'm not gonna do anything to him, he's already in bad shape...what you did to him'll get us all put away for life.”</p><p>“Nahhhh, not me. You.  Just you.  See, you're gonna do it again because you don't like him.  Ya see Sheridan?  You got it in for the Feds.  Think they're worthless, just empty suits and ties...didn't I hear you say that once?”</p><p>“You heard wrong.”</p><p>“Did I?  Funny. I remember you sayin' that just...this...morning.  Now you pick him up offa that cot, and you stand him against that wall, and you do as I say or it'll happen to you instead.  You hear me?”</p><p>Sheridan remained strong for a moment, like he might actually stand up to Pot Roast, but soon his shoulders slumped in submission and he walked toward Aaron lying on the cot, half awake, motionless because that was the only time the pain stopped screaming through his bones.  Sheridan grabbed him by his jacket and hefted him to his feet, and Aaron struggled, writhing and twisting to try and get away.  He knew he had nothing left but he'd come from behind with less before and he could do it again.  </p><p>But not this time. This time, his tank was empty.  His right arm, once casted and healing, hung limp at his side from the shoulder, his ribs ached, and his head was pounding like there was an inner city construction crew that had taken up residence just behind his eyes.  Sheridan forced him against the wall with his fists, throwing them hard against Aaron's chest.  He felt the air fly out of his lungs and he coughed, gasped for air.  </p><p>“Oh, Sheridan, you're good.  Keep it up.  Hit him again.”</p><p>This was only the beginning.  Sheridan hit Aaron, and if Aaron fell, he drug him back to his feet and did it again.  His blows were hard but Aaron knew he was going easy on him – it didn't make much difference in his state, but he made some feeble mental note of it every time his knees buckled and the Warden lifted him back up for another round.  </p><p>.............................................................................................................................</p><p>In the convenience store, Dave and Derek sat beside each other, Dave now with a cold iced tea bottle against the goose egg on his head.  They could hear the first-responders outside trying to get in without any luck so far, but at least they were safe.  Dave felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket, and when he reached in and peered at it, he couldn't believe his eyes.  It was Aaron.</p><p>“Morgan,” Dave sputtered, showing Derek the phone.  He clicked the green button and before he could say hello, he heard sounds that made him sick to his stomach.  Derek grabbed the phone from his hands and held it closer to their ears – they heard the sounds of violence, of Aaron groaning, of Aaron quietly pleading for it to stop, men's voices – one telling another what to do, the other doing it not a moment later with sputtered, whisper quiet apologies.  Dave pressed a hand to his mouth, afraid he was going to be sick.  Derek picked up his phone and dialed the only person he could think to dial.  </p><p>“Garcia don't talk.  Get into Hotch's phone, he called Rossi somehow but you need to hear it.  You need to track it, get in there, do something baby girl.  Don't let anyone else hear it.  Hotch would...”  But he couldn't finish his sentence.  The sounds coming from the phone were freezing his blood in his veins.  He looked over at Dave and saw his face painted with sickness and rage.  </p><p>Garcia began working her magic, and it wasn't long before she was able to hear what Derek and Dave were hearing.  What came through the phone was horrifying, Dave desperately needed to get far from it but he couldn't tear himself away, just kept his hand clamped over his mouth and listened to the sounds of the person he loved being tortured as if this was something that happened in people's lives.  Hadn't Aaron endured enough?  Hadn't they all?  And yet here they always seemed to find themselves.  </p><p>It was only another minute before the phone went dead, and they had no idea why.  Garcia was able to keep her lock on its location, that was all they had to cling to.  Dave stood slowly, trembling, and walked to a shadowy corner of the store to get sick in as private a spot as he could find.  He hid there, when he was all done, wondering if he should try to clean it up, but instead he just collapsed next to it and cried. All the sadness, all the fear, all the rage just poured out of him as hot tears.  </p><p>“You okay?” Derek asked, crouching beside the older man.  Dave looked up at him miserably.</p><p>“Not even a little.”</p><p>“Talk.  We got nothing but time while we're stuck in here.”  Derek extended his hand to his friend and pulled him to his feet, walking them away from the corner of sick.  He glanced over at the two hostages to make sure they were still alright before sitting down beside Dave in a small corner of the rubble.  </p><p>“He's...” Dave began, struggling to put to words what was swimming through his head. He cleared his throat.  “You know, the other night Jack asked me if I loved Aaron.  Loved him like his mom did.”</p><p>Derek nodded. “What'd you say?  You lie to him and say no?”</p><p>“Can't lie to that kid, he's too smart.  Can't keep secrets from profilers, can't lie to profiler's sons.  He said I should tell him, he's been bullying me, and I thought I had all of these really good reasons for not doing it yet but turns out I'm just a coward.  And he's up there alone in that prison and I keep thinking, if I'd just told him, maybe he'd have some...” his voice trailed off, he didn't know how to finish that sentence.  Or even if he wanted to.  Derek was silent for a long while, just taking in the information.  It wasn't as if he, or the rest of the team, didn't know.  It was near impossible not to see it.  The subtle ways they always found each other, just quickly, always acutely aware of where the other was. Their friendship had always been deep but lately there was more behind those looks, and every member of the team had noticed it in their own way, but none had been moved to question it.  The illusion of privacy.  </p><p>“He's going to be okay,” Derek said finally, and he sounded sure of himself.  “He's the strongest person I know.”</p><p>“That's a heavy burden for him to bear,”  Dave whispered, leaning his aching head back against the crumbling wall.  He was thinking about his talk with Jack now, he couldn't get that kid's face out of his mind, those sad eyes talking about his father needing someone.  Derek regarded that statement sadly.  </p><p>“Never thought of it that way.”</p><p>“I don't think any of us do.  He shoulders all of our burdens silently, but everything has a price Morgan.”</p><p>“In that case,” Derek said through gritted teeth.  “Maybe its time we pay up.”</p><p>Derek picked up his phone and dialed Emily, who picked up right away, her exasperation clear in her voice.  </p><p>“Morgan they're still trying,” she spat into the phone, stalking around the building feeling useless.  Useless and sweaty.  “They think they've found a spot that they can try to get through, but they're worried about caving the whole thing in.  They've got to go slow.  This could take hours.”</p><p>“It's okay Em, listen, you guys need to get up to that prison.  Leave us here, they'll get us out without your supervision.  Hotch needs you guys there.  We'll fly up as soon as we're clear, you guys need to go. Call Garcia and get out of here.”</p><p>“Morgan are you sure?”</p><p>“Without a doubt. We'll be fine.  We're trapped in here with all the junk food we could ever want, and our new friends are awesome – we got a nurse and a singer.  Don't worry about us.”</p><p>“Okay.  Reid's gonna be pissed, you know he won’t want to leave you...”</p><p>“I'm sure he will but Strauss put me in charge of this team, so I'm calling the shots. I’m also putting you in charge now, have fun with that.  I can’t do anything from in here except eat all of my cheat day calories for the year.”</p><p>“I don't want it Morgan,” she muttered, but nodded.  “Thanks a lot.”</p><p>...............................................................................................................................</p><p>“The prisoners are in the yard now,” Pot Roast called to Sheridan, smiling for the first time like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  Aaron lay on the floor, his breathing ragged, his cheek resting in a pool of sticky blood.  “It’s only a matter of time before they cave and give us what we want.”</p><p>“You’re never going to get it...” Aaron muttered, blinking slowly.  He felt his jaw lock and pop as he spoke.  “They won’t negotiate with you.”</p><p>“You don’t think so?  What makes you so smart?”</p><p>Aaron coughed, blood filling his mouth, but he smiled a little.  It was unhinged, terrifying, the blood running out the side just a little as he spoke.  Sheridan watched and feared him - that he was still putting up a fight, even after what had been done to him, what might be done to him still, this Fed wasn’t just an empty suit and tie.  This one was clearly insane.  </p><p>“You think this is my first time in a prison riot?  You’re all the same.  Think you’re irreplaceable, think you’re owed something, but...” he coughed again, shutting his eyes and forcing himself to refocus.  “There’s a thousand guys out there right now that would do your job in a heartbeat for cheaper and they know that.  Probably do a better job too.  They wouldn’t collude with the prisoners for selfish gain.  They wouldn’t be dumb enough to assault a Federal Agent, either.”</p><p>Pot Roast looked rattled, only for a moment, but corrected himself quickly.  Old Spice, who had just been standing in the corner with his baton at the ready, shuddered - he didn’t recover as fast.  He found himself awe stricken by the bloody madman on the floor.  The man who could barely move, was breathing funny, and talking to Pot Roast like he was in charge.  </p><p>“Jer - “ Pot Roast nodded to Old Spice, who approached Aaron and with one fell swoop, cracked him on the back of the head and sent him spiraling into the stars. Old Spice was afraid of the Fed, but he still enjoyed what he did.  “We gotta get rid of him.  The game isn’t fun anymore.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are, my pretties!  The end of the saga!  Thank you SO MUCH for reading, and for commenting!  It means the world to me.  As always, I’m always open to asks/requests - I (clearly) play favorites with Hotch/Rossi, but I’m open to a few others or non-ship asks.   (The entire series is also posted on Tumblr.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>And then there were three.</p><p>“Okay, my lovelies,” Garcia began, her face glowing from the screen of Emily's laptop as what was left of the team gathered around on the jet.  “What we know is this:  the guards decided their union wasn't doing enough to get them what they consider fair compensation, so they decided to show everyone how important they are by coordinating a prison riot.  Most of the prisoners are out in the yard, there were some that decided to stay in their cells.  The smart ones I guess.  The ones who didn’t let the guards use them for their advantage.  It appears that Hotch is being kept with the Warden in a cell, so far as a bargaining chip but...after...” she gulped, wiping at a tear quickly before anyone caught it.  </p><p>“After what Garcia?” Reid asked, not even looking at her.  He'd been filling out his paperwork on the Tampa case, trying to get it done before it ever landed on Hotch's desk.  He figured it was the least he could do.  When she didn't immediately reply, he looked up and saw the stricken faces of JJ and Emily looking back at him.  He’d missed out on something big, like usual.   Whether intentional or not, he wasn’t sure.</p><p>“Garcia, play the call for Reid, maybe he'll hear something we couldn't.  Something that'll help us.”</p><p>The call, in its entirety, was 2 minutes and 47 seconds of agony.  Emily couldn't believe she was listening to it again.  JJ had excused herself, unable to do so.  Garcia cried, big crocodile tears, even before the call had begun.  There Spencer sat, his eyes closed, taking it all in.  Every time Hotch made a sound, Spencer seemed to tense, his muscles flexing almost imperceptibly in a way that even Emily read as pure rage.  As it ended, Spencer opened his eyes to JJ handing him a cup of coffee and sitting back down, Garcia wiping tears and ruined makeup off of her cheeks, and Emily's cold, dead stare.  She'd heard it too many times now, every bit of her felt icy and cruel, the only way she could do this without losing her mind was to fuel it into calculated anger.   Spencer cleared his throat, just making sure his voice was still there.  </p><p>“There were at least 4 people involved – Hotch, the Warden, and two guards.  I could hear one guard calling out to the Warden, telling him what to do...but there was another that was muttering something that I only picked up twice.  It sounded like he was saying 'take it easy don't kill him' the first time, and the second time was 'don't kill him'.  It didn't sound remorseful though, it sounded frightened.  Like he'd afraid of what's going to happen to him if they kill Hotch.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Emily muttered under her breath at nothing in particular.  It was just how she was feeling.  Usually she tried to keep her sailor's mouth under wraps, but she didn't much care right now for formality.  “What do we do Garcia?  Is there anything we can do?”</p><p>“Get to Lewisburg, my pretties.  The police know you're on your way and they're going to work with you.”</p><p>“Thank you, Garcia.”</p><p>…............................................................................................................................</p><p>Dave was beside himself, pacing back and forth with his head in his hands.  He felt nauseous, and he wasn't sure if it was over Aaron or his own head injury, but it didn't much matter.   Derek had been visiting with the hostages, ever the social one, and under better circumstances Dave would have joined in.  He'd called Jessica already, told her as much as she needed to know and as little as he could get away with, for the sole purpose of asking her to make arrangements for Jack in his father's absence.   Of course she'd done it, of course she hadn't even complained, and of course she hadn't asked anything in return but Dave promised he'd personally make it up to her for ruining her vacation.  When she asked if Aaron was okay, Dave's silence spoke volumes – how could he answer her?  What he pulled out was a half-truth, deceptive but well-meaning – he just told her they didn't know yet.  She'd been around long enough to figure what that meant.  </p><p>“Rossi,” Derek called, sauntering over to where Dave was pacing, going over and over his conversation with Jessica, wishing he'd been able to tell her more.  She deserved better than his silence and he knew it.  She deserved better than a lot of what she got.  </p><p>“He kept his phone on him,” Dave blurted out, stopping suddenly and staring hard at Derek with wild eyes. “He did what I asked.”</p><p>“What?” Derek asked, momentarily forgetting why he'd come over now.  Dave looked intensely right at Derek, his fists in balls at his sides.  </p><p>“Our last conversation, he called me just before he got on the road and I told him to keep his phone on him, in case anything happened.  He listened to me.”  </p><p>“Yeah, “ Derek's voice was low, cautious.  Dave was like a caged animal, distressed and injured and scared, and Derek could see that he was dangerously close to his breaking point.  “That's good.  That's good.  Hold onto that.”  </p><p>“He needs our help and we're trapped in this - “ Light.  Light broke through from the wall opposite them, just a crack at first, but it widened slowly as chunks of debris were carted away.  Dave stared at it as if it were an illusion.  “Is that...”</p><p>“Yeah.  We're getting out,” Derek said softly, pressing his hand to Dave's shoulder.  Now he remembered why he'd come over.  “We have to get checked out by the EMTs before we can leave.  I know, I know...neither of us wants to do it but we need to check all the boxes with this one, Rossi.  There's a jet waiting for us when we're ready, one way to Lewisburg.”</p><p>…...........................................................................................................................</p><p>On legs that barely worked, Aaron was drug through the prison by Old Spice.  His feet dragged more than they stepped, his ribs aching under the pressure from the guard's grip on him.  He coughed, leaving a trail of blood like breadcrumbs through the now empty corridors of the prison. Everyone was outside, there was gunfire and shouting and helicopters – things were not going according to the guards' plan.  </p><p>“He knows you’re weak. He’s using you. You going to kill me yourself?” Aaron asked, his voice ragged, his jaw cracking angrily at him for being moved.  He spat another mouthful of blood onto the floor and watched it splatter in every direction.  </p><p>“Not worth it,” Old Spice replied, using his one free hand now to unlock a cell door. Inside was dark, no window, no bed, no toilet, just a small black room – isolation.  Old Spice smiled eerily as he tossed Aaron inside, watching the man stumble on legs that couldn't hold his weight.  Falling to the ground, Aaron landed with a thud, not having the energy or desire to try and brace himself this time.  He just fell.  </p><p>“You enjoy yourself in here, see how pretty the rats think you are...” Old Spice threw the door closed behind him and locked it, sealing Aaron into the murky darkness.  He just lay there motionless, listening to the sounds of tiny feet skittering around the outskirts of the room, waiting for them to smell the blood and come to him.  Outside, he could hear police on bullhorns, the thundering of helicopters overhead, rapid fire shots through the yard.  He knew it wasn't long now before things were neutralized, but he wasn't sure he'd see the other side of it.  No one knew he was in there, and the guards weren't likely to mention they'd beaten an FBI Agent to a bloody pulp and left him for dead in solitary confinement.  </p><p>As the noise began to die down outside, Aaron could feel his consciousness fading in and out.  He wouldn't be able to stay awake, and maybe he didn't want to be awake when the rats finally realized what a treat had been brought to them.  He faded out, and back in, with no concept of time passing except the noises outside.  No more helicopters, no more rapid fire.</p><p>“This one!” he heard someone shout from outside his cell, and soon after, there were keys frantically turning in the locks.  The first face he saw when the light from the corridor flooded his cell was Emily's.  She approached him quickly, followed immediately by JJ and Reid, all of them crouching to surround him there on the floor.  </p><p>“You're going to be okay,” JJ said, but her eyes betrayed her words.  He saw his own waning mortality reflected in her eyes, but he forced a meek smile anyway.  Reid hung back a ways, and Aaron had a hard time seeing him. No one else, no one else came.  He wanted to ask where Morgan and Dave were, but he couldn't seem to form the words.  </p><p>“I know,” he muttered, the only thing he could force out.  He let his eyes close, just for a moment.  He’d open them again soon.  It was just...the light was too bright.  </p><p>...............................................................................................................................</p><p>Hospitals were no one's favorite destination, but this team seemed bound and determined to visit every hospital on the continent.  When Dave and Derek entered, exhausted and filthy and bandaged up, they were greeted with elation from their wayward teammates.  The hugs were tight, too tight, and too long.  They were all desperate and tired and just glad to have the pieces slowly coming back together.  </p><p>“How is he?” Derek asked, glancing at the tired faces of the people he loved. Emily shook her head and shrugged.  </p><p>“He's alive,” she offered, as if that was any sort of consolation.  “They haven't let him have any visitors yet, but they said soon.  They had to do some emergency surgery, he was a mess.”</p><p>The last thing Dave wanted to hear was a damage report, so he was thankful when no one tried to offer it.  He just wanted to see Aaron.   </p><p>When they were finally allowed to see him, the staff insisted on one at a time in the room so he wasn't overwhelmed.  Derek insisted that Dave go first, to which they all agreed.  Every one of them desperately wanted to go in there, save for Emily who would be fine never visiting someone in a hospital bed ever again, but she'd go in later anyway because it was Aaron and she was mostly sure he'd do it for her even if she didn't want it.  Whether you called that friendship or payback she wasn't sure, they walked a fine line.  </p><p>Before Dave could get far, Derek stopped him and leaned in close, locking eyes with him.  </p><p>“Do it.  Don't you leave that room without saying what you need to say.  The way he behaves, you might not get another chance.”  Dave nodded his understanding and felt his stomach try to leap up into his throat. He gulped it back down as best he could and followed the nurse down the hallway to Aaron's room.  </p><p>Sleeping.  Aaron was sleeping.  His face was a mess of ghastly bruises and dried blood, his body was a patchwork of bandages and braces and monitors and cords, but he looked peaceful – must be good drugs, Dave thought. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat beside his friend, just staring at him, unable to look away.  His head was pounding, and the longer he sat, the harder it seemed to keep his eyes open.  He’d been sustained by anger and worry and fear, but now being beside Aaron, it all gave way to simple exhaustion.  Gently, he folded his arms on the bed beside Aaron, resting his head there, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors lulling him into a light sleep.  </p><p>“Dave,” Aaron whispered softly some time later, his voice thin and ghostly pale, but it woke Dave anyway.  “What happened to you?  You're hurt...”  Fingers trailed gently along the bandage on Dave's forehead, eyes filled with worry. Dave shook his head, smiling.  </p><p>“You're one to talk.”</p><p>“It isn't supposed to happen to you,” Aaron muttered, and Dave couldn't believe the beautiful absurdity of the statement.  </p><p>“Can't let you have all the fun, Aaron.”  Silence fell between them while Aaron trailed his fingers along Dave's bandage, almost in a trance.  He was utterly fixated on it.  </p><p>“I'm not sure I'm cut out for light duty,” Aaron said finally, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before blinking open.  He was so tired.   Dave smiled – those terrible, dusty old jokes got him every time.  “I've had some time to do some thinking, Dave...”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“I didn't realize you did that,” Dave said softly.  Aaron's lips curved into a soft smile.</p><p>“Came as a shock to me as well.”</p><p>“I've done some thinking too.“ Dave began, sucking in a sharp breath.  It was time, he had to do it now.  There were other people waiting to come and see Aaron, and he couldn't look Derek in the eye if he didn't do it.  And Jack.  If that boy knew Dave let his father sit in a hospital bed without saying anything, he would never forgive him.  Dave was certain of that.  </p><p>“I need to go first.  I need to say something now that I should have said a long time ago.  I should have been saying it every day.  Aaron, I love you.  And before you do that thing you do where you clam up and try to change the subject:  I don't need any grand gestures, Lord knows I'm not looking to get married again, but if you'd just do me the honor of letting me love you, it's all I ask.  It wouldn't be so bad if you loved me back, though.”</p><p>Silence.  Aaron's eyes were closed now, and Dave almost hoped he'd fallen back asleep, but when his voice finally came, it was soft and gentle.  “I love you too, Dave.  I thought you already knew that.  I'm not good at this stuff.”</p><p>“I know, and I don't need you to be, I'm great at it.  You kept your phone with you when I asked you to, I’d say that’s a pretty good start.”</p><p>“How did you know that?” Aaron asked, raising an eyebrow.  His phone was broken in his jacket, the screen cracked after being hit with a baton enough times.  </p><p>“I got a call...I heard...” Dave began, wishing now he’d kept the information to himself.  Aaron looked stricken, all the color drained from his face.  “It must have dialed when they were...I thought you knew.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispered, swallowing his nausea as the memory flooded back.  “I’m sorry.  For whatever you heard.”</p><p>“Do you want to talk about what happened?”</p><p>“No.  Not...not now.  Please.”</p><p>“Okay.  You can talk when you’re ready.  What were you thinking about earlier?”</p><p>“I don't want to say now.”</p><p>“Oh come on, I just bared my soul.  The least you can do is tell me what you were thinking about.”</p><p>“I...” Aaron began, licking his dry, cracked lips, feeling all of the scabs that must have made him look like a monster.  “I like the Predator movies better.  I'm sorry.”</p><p>“What?!  Aaron! I take back everything I just said.  Every. Word.”</p><p>“Too late.  Come here.  Be gentle.”  Dave stood up and slid onto the bed beside Aaron, careful not to lean too hard, touch too much – he knew, he'd heard, Aaron's body was a mess.  He leaned forward and, with one final moment of hesitation, kissed the other man softly.  He heard Aaron hiss, felt him flinch a little beneath the pressure, but soon he was kissing back, pushing through the ache in his jaw.  Dave heard the sounds of the heart monitor increasing and he smiled against Aaron's mouth, pressing in a little harder this time, a little more confident.  </p><p>“Gentle,” Aaron whispered between breaths, his voice ragged but now for a very different reason.  Dave only half heard him, he was too busy being lost in the power he now wielded over those vital signs.</p>
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